


Fae Falling

by endgirl



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Episode: S05E06 Clear Eyes Fae Hearts, F/F, Season/Series 05, Valkubus - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 13:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3174480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endgirl/pseuds/endgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of "girlfriends," set against the storm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fae Falling

“I ruined it.” Tamsin’s voice quaked with snot and tears as she confessed her sins into the phone. She pulled her knees closer to her chest, huddled between the bed and the trunk in Kenzi’s old room in the attic. The house was still and silent apart from the raindrops that fell rhythmically from the ceiling—remnants of the Ancients’ lightning storm—and into the pots Tamsin had arranged around the room.

“Doubtful,” said the voice on the other end of the line.

“You’re not here.” Tamsin’s shaky words were tinged with the tween angst that sometimes reared its head during these calls, left over from her last adolescence. “You didn’t see her face.”

“Tam-Tam—”

A sob broke free. “You’re not _here_!”

The line went quiet for several moments, save for a sad sigh.

“I fucked it all up,” Tamsin said softly, when she could count on her voice again.

“Nope. _Nyet_. Not possible. It’s like licking your elbow. Like a fat kid with a cake deficiency. Like inside-out reverse cowgirl atop a stalled Harley. Trust, I’ve tried all three.”

Tamsin sniffled, long and bubbly and pitiful. “I’m pretty flexible.”

“And I’m sure Bobathon appreciates that.” The tinny voice turned stern and maternal through the speaker. “Among your sundry other personal qualities and characteristics, right T?”

Tamsin had thought so—had hoped so—but right now those hopes felt like foolish delusions. Delusions that would have been embarrassing for a human, and were downright shameful for a Valkyrie on her last life. “I haven’t seen her for three days. Not since… not since I said…”

“‘Girlfriends’?”

Tamsin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Don’t say it like that,” she snapped, “all mushy and gleeful. God.”

Kenzi snorted, but her words were soft. “You mean like you did, T-Bone?”

“Yes! No!” Tamsin slapped her free hand on the bare wood floor in frustration. “I didn’t _mean_ to say it, okay? Not like _that_. I just meant… I meant…”

“That you want to marry Bo and have her Succubabies? That you want to make kale smoothies together and listen to Tegan and Sara and debate the rising price of almond milk? That you want to buy her a promise ring and—”

“Momz! You are so not helping.”

“Okay. Okay, apologies. So you initiated the DTR a smidge too early,” Kenzi said, like it was nothing but a minor speedbump. “We can work with that. Happens to the best of us. But really, is it so terrible that you did? I mean, don’t you remember what we discussed?”

Tamsin chewed on her lip. She took a deep, shaking breath. “All in?”

“All in, T-T.”

 

* * *

 

Bo eased up to the curb and shut off the engine. The back of her leather pants were soaking wet from sitting inside the Camaro long enough to make it home from the Dal, where she’d been holed up with Trick, Dyson, and Mark while the Ancients orchestrated their hurricane from hell. The four of them had checked in on a few of the Dal’s more vulnerable Fae neighbors when the worst of the winds hit, before seeking refuge inside the bar to wait out the storm.

The Camaro hadn’t been as lucky. Its top had been blown off sometime on the second day of hail, and Trick had refused to let her brave the downpour to rescue a car. Of course, there had also been that gang of poison-breathing frog Fae lurking in the Dal’s parking lot at the time.

 _Still_ , Bo thought, snorting. _Men_.

Now the Camaro looked more sinking-lifeboat-tragic than 6-cylinder-chic. The glovebox could house a school of minnows, and the leather seats were as waterlogged and pruney as Bo’s fingertips had been after that bath she’d taken before the storm. Sure, she’d soaked in the water longer than was wise, but it had been impossible to drag herself out after being struck by lightning—first by the electrostatic variety, and then by Tamsin’s very own brand.

Bo groaned. _Tamsin_.

The Valkyrie had been oddly silent as she’d turned on the faucet and poured bubbles into Bo’s bath, especially considering how effusive she’d been moments before. Bo’s mind had raced as she’d slipped into the tub, naked, hearing a phantom-Tamsin say _girlfriends, girlfriends, girlfriends, girlfriends_. It took her too long to realize that the real Tamsin—standing beside the tub and surprisingly _not_ naked—was staring at her with the sort of anxious, open-hearted dread that could only accompany the sudden realization that maybe she’d said something she shouldn’t have.

Whatever uncertainty she saw in Bo’s eyes must not have soothed her fears, for Tamsin’s impenetrable mask slid across her face. It had been so long since Bo had seen it, since she’d been cast out of Tamsin’s inner world as quickly as Dyson or Trick, and it had sent a piercing, unexpected pain through her chest.

By the time Bo had collected her thoughts, the front door was clicking shut downstairs. She hadn’t seen the Valkyrie since, which she suspected was by design—though Bo wasn’t sure if it was hers or Tamsin’s.

She had yearned to leap out of the tub and chase after Tamsin right that minute, but she hadn’t been able to make herself move. Wasn’t it better to hurt Tamsin a little bit then, instead of a lot later? Wouldn’t it be kinder to bruise her early on than to rip her to shreds down the line?

Because that was what Bo did. That was who she was. She killed her high school boyfriend, drove Dyson to sever a part of his own soul, and broke Lauren’s heart so thoroughly that Lauren had had no choice but to break hers in return. How much could she blame on being a Succubus, and how much was just Bo? The thought of burdening Tamsin with that much dysfunction—courageous, magnificent, vulnerable Tamsin—was impossible for Bo to bear.

And Bo had never expected she would have to. She’d been vaguely aware of Tamsin’s sexual attraction for some time before her birthday. But she was a Succubus—lingering looks from the people around her was nothing to write home about. She’d been so wrapped up in Lauren and Dyson and her father that she’d failed to notice that Tamsin’s looks were different. That Tamsin’s brimmed with more than just lust. Most of all, Bo had failed to notice when she’d started looking back.

By the time she’d dragged herself out of the bathtub and gone to look for the errant Valkyrie, she was too late. Bo checked the Dal first, her hair still dripping from the bath and her clothes drenched from the sudden downpour that had started outside. Trick told her that Tamsin had indeed been resident at the bar for the past hour or so, where she’d gone shot-for-shot with a Dullahan until he misplaced his head and had to forfeit their bet. The crowd had thinned as the weather worsened, until even Tamsin called it a night—just minutes before Bo came looking for her. Bo had turned around to go back home, but that was when the lightning started. Dyson stumbled in moments later, talking of downed power lines and deadly, inhuman thunder. And thus their merry storm band was formed.

As they hunkered down to figure out how to appease the Ancients, Bo had shot a quick text off to Tamsin, asking if she was all right and if she’d made it home in one piece. The last Bo heard from Tamsin was a blinking blue message that read _5x5_.

Now, sixty-eight hours and four near-homicides of Mark later, Bo looked up at the condemned warehouse she called home. She swallowed. Tamsin was somewhere inside, if the light spilling from the boarded windows was any indication. The power in the city had been restored that morning, but it had taken another several hours for the flash floods to drain off enough to make the roads passable. Now the storm was nothing but a light drizzle that prickled at the hair on Bo’s head, mocking her for a letting a little rain keep her away.

Not that it had just been the rain. She knew she could have found a way out of the Dal if she’d really wanted to—would have, certainly, if there had been any indication that Tamsin was in danger at home. As it was, Bo wasn’t sorry to have the time to think. A chance to consider a conversation that was long overdue.

She opened the car door with an anxious intake of breath and stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was now or never.

“I’ll deal with you later,” she told the Camaro.

Inside, the Clubhouse was silent. It looked like the Ancients’ storm had ravaged the kitchen as much as it had the world outside, judging by the overturned Lucky Charms boxes and the grains of rice strewn across the counter. Bo couldn’t help but smile. Tamsin without takeout at her fingertips was clearly as hazardous as any Fae tsunami.

She climbed the stairs to the bedroom, only to find it hadn’t been touched. The bed looked exactly as Bo had left it on that morning she’d dreamed of Lauren but woken up beside another. The sheets were still rumpled. The blankets still twisted. The pillows still held the imprints of her head and Tamsin’s, side by side.

Tamsin had slept elsewhere while she was gone. Maybe Tamsin hadn’t even come home. Bo turned away.

Her chest ached—with guilt, with longing, with fear—as she went up the attic stairs. Finally, she could hear something. The _droop-droop-droop_ of water hitting metal, and then a voice.

“Tamsin?”

There was no response.

Bo felt suddenly nervous. What if Tamsin was up there with someone? What if she was entertaining the first-string lineup of the Thunder—or, worse, the Thunder cheerleaders and that brainless, big-eyed Brinky. Binky.

Whatever.

The point was, Bo was being stupid. She was probably only imagining Tamsin’s feelings for her, wasn’t she? She’d been right all along, hadn’t she? It was just sex. The thought made Bo feel equal parts relieved and disappointed. Really she should just go back downstairs, and—

 _“I can’t!”_ came a voice from deep in the attic, behind the bedroom door. A voice that was crying.

Tamsin’s voice.

 _Crying_.

Bo took the last two steps at a jump. “Tamsin?” She pushed the door open without thinking, without knocking, conscious only of the need to reach the sound and make it stop.

“I _know_ it’s my last life, but—” Tamsin’s words cut off.

Bo’s eyes darted around the attic, but all she saw was an assortment of pots and pans catching water from the leaks in the roof. At last she spotted Tamsin, crouched in the corner beside the bed, staring at Bo in stunned silence. Her eyes were bloodshot and brimming, and they sliced into the deepest part of Bo’s soul.

Tamsin couldn’t seem to get up fast enough. “I have to go,” she choked out into the phone as she stood on wobbly legs, wiping furiously at her cheeks. She jabbed at the screen with her thumbs, but the voice on the other end of the line was still coming out of the speaker, barely audible.

“ _Wait, Tam—_ ”

And then Bo’s soul was cut into another piece, for another reason. “Kenzi?” she called, lost in shock. “Oh my god, is that Kenzi?”

Tamsin tried to whisk by Bo and out of the attic, but Bo caught her arm.

“How—?”

Tamsin half-dropped, half-flung the phone to the floor by Bo’s feet. As Bo’s grip loosened, she slipped free and disappeared down the steps.

Bo dove for the phone. When she finally had it in her trembling hands, the screen blinked and the connection broke. Frantic and unthinking, Bo jabbed at the call button, an unfamiliar number still up on the screen, until the phone began to redial.

It rang for decades—Bo was sure of it—before her call was finally answered.

“Yo, Little T, gotta work on your exit strategy.”

For a moment, Bo couldn’t breathe. Her face broke into a wide, disbelieving smile. “Kenzi?”

“Bo-Bo?” Shock and joy and sadness, in four short letters.

“Yeah. Kenz, it’s me.” Kenzi’s voice was a salve to the sores Bo had been gnashing at for the past three days at the Dal. “Oh my god, where are you?”

“Staying with some friends. Rolly on my arm, pouring Chandon. You know, the youzh.”

“Kenzi, god.” Bo laughed, but the thrill of hearing her best friend’s voice began to give way to rational thought. “Why haven’t you called? I’ve been so worried. Wait. Why haven’t you called _me_?”

Kenzi sighed. “Bobalicious, you know you’re my favorite Fae. My number one woman. My number _one_ , period. But.” She paused, then cleared her throat. “I just thought… maybe it would be easier if I didn’t call, just for a little while. Get my feet on the ground before I—”

“Kenz—”

“It’s too hard, Bo.” Kenzi interrupted. “It’s too hard to hear your voice and not come running back. I need to do this, you know?”

“I know,” Bo whispered, hating to say it. “I don’t agree, but I know.”

“It’s different with Tam-Tam. I raised her from a wee baby Valk. I can’t just up and abandon her, especially not right now.”

Bo ignored the way Kenzi’s words burned, the jealousy that flared in her gut. She knew Kenzi was right.

“Speaking of, Succusister, where’s your girl now?”

“I don’t know. She—”

“Ha! Trick question. You have now confirmed that she’s your girl, which is a binding contract under the Everlasting Edicts of the Blood King, amen.”

“Kenzi—”

“Wait, get it? _Trick_ question?”

Bo groaned in response.

“All right, fine. By the power invested in me by Mother Russia, I hereby unbind you. But in any case, go! Find her! Say whatever you need to say, Succubabe, but don’t you dare mishandle her heart or I will bleed you dry.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me, Kenz. She flew downstairs the second I walked in.”

“Downstairs as in down a level? As in nearer to the ground?” Kenzi’s voice rose. “As in approaching the front door, out of which she could _literally fly_ away forever? _That_ downstairs?”

Bo’s mouth felt suddenly dry. She knew Tamsin wouldn’t actually fly away forever from the family she’d waited centuries to find, but the thought that Tamsin might want to, even for a second, because of _her_ … because she, Bo, had been clumsy and cavalier with Tamsin’s feelings. It was too much.

Still, Bo couldn’t just let Kenzi go. Not when she’d only gotten her back. “But—”

“If you hang up now, Bo, I swear on Baba Yaga I will call you tomorrow. If you don’t, I will come back from the grave to haunt you in a clown suit until the end of your ridiculously long Fae life, at which point I will—”

Bo tossed the phone onto Kenzi’s old bed and took the stairs at a run.

 

* * *

 

Tamsin stood at the kitchen counter, measuring a cup of chocolate chips into a quart of Bo’s vanilla yogurt. Her hands were steady through sheer force of will, her cheeks wiped clean of the tears that had stained them only moments before. Despite centuries of experience, she had never been good at hiding her feelings around Bo—hadn’t even tried to in months—but there was no reason she couldn’t improve through diligent practice.

“Tamsin?” Bo burst in from upstairs, looking wildly about the room as if she feared Tamsin might have vanished.

“Oh, hey,” Tamsin said. She smiled brightly at Bo from behind the counter. “Want a bowl? The chocolate kind of covers the gross yogurty taste.”

Bo blinked.

Tamsin wondered if Bo could see the brittleness of her smile—the emotions that must still be swirling in her eyes, despite her attempts to mask them. She glanced down as she tossed the measuring cup aside, dumping the rest of the bag of chocolate chips into the yogurt container. Stray bits of chocolate scattered across the countertop.

Bo crossed the room towards the kitchen. “Tamsin—”

“Pizza’s on the way, but the delivery estimate was _two hours_. Fascists.”

“Tam—”

Tamsin sidestepped around Bo, yogurt-cup-turned-chocolate-mountain in hand. She tossed back a few of the chips like popcorn. “I got GTA for the Xbox. Wanna rough up some cops?”

Bo threw up her hands. “Tamsin!”

“What!” Tamsin glared.

Weeks ago—days ago, even—Tamsin knew Bo would have been grateful for the easy out she was offering. Happy to give the Valkyrie a cursory once-over to check for missing limbs, before getting back to her real worries, about the wolfish wonder and her perfect, precious doctor.

Why was Bo pushing so hard now?

“We need to talk,” Bo said.

“Okay, fine, we can rough up the hookers instead,” Tamsin said, plowing on as she searched for the remote between the couch cushions. “Far be it for me to stand in the way of your kinks, Succusnatch.”

“Will you just stop?” Bo grabbed Tamsin’s arm, pulling her upright. “Listen—”

“Ooh, you like to listen, too?” Tamsin leered. “That is kinky.”

“For Fae’s sake,” Bo huffed. “Sit down.” She took Tamsin by the shoulders and forced her onto the couch. Tamsin rolled her eyes as Bo perched on the opposite end, prying the remote from one of her hands and the chocolate chips from the other.

They sat angled toward one another, their knees touching at one side. Tamsin was suddenly aware of how close Bo was, of the way she smelled, of the soft brown hair that hung down her back, begging to be touched.

“I know this is new for you,” Bo said.

Tamsin scoffed. There was nothing that was new to a Valkyrie on her last life—nothing she wasn’t an expert in, the best at, a champion of. Nothing except for feelings, she thought morosely. Feelings, and the incredible, insufferable woman who sat beside her.

“But this is what… people do,” said Bo. “They talk.”

“What _roomies_ do?” Tamsin challenged.

“Yes,” Bo said. “And… other people, too.” Tamsin looked away, embarrassed to let Bo see the pointless hope she knew must be plain on her face. “It’s my fault. We should have done this way earlier, but—”

“But you were too busy hiding from the lightning under Lauren’s labcoat?” Tamsin bit her tongue the second the venomous words left her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to expose herself to Bo any more than she already had. Tamsin had long ago given up on ridding herself of her feelings for the Succubus, but she could at least keep them inside where they belonged. She could play roomies, or friends with benefits, or whatever it was that Bo wanted from her.

“What?” Bo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I’ve been stuck at the Dal.”

“No,” Tamsin snapped, “ _I_ was at the Dal.”

“Yeah, and then you left,” Bo said, her voice rising. “I came looking for you but you were already gone, and then I got trapped there with Gramps and the Teen Wolf Collective, which is your fault, by the way, because—”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes, and—”

“You weren’t with Lauren.”

“No, I was not with Lauren.” Bo rubbed at her temples. “Let’s start simpler. Rule number one of people talk is _no interrupting_.”

“Fine,” Tamsin muttered, folding her arms over her chest and sinking back into the couch. When Bo didn’t speak, Tamsin looked at her expectantly. “Well?”

“So.” Bo took a deep breath. “I know we should have talked earlier, before we ever became, um—”

“O-kay,” Tamsin cut in with forced cheer, “I’m going to stop you there.” Bo gawked with disbelief. Tamsin’s eyes widened. “Sorry! But we really don’t need to do this. That thing I said the other night, just forget it. It didn’t mean what you thought it meant. We’ll just keep on keeping on, no big.”

Tamsin moved to stand up and retrieve her dinner, but Bo caught her arm and pulled her back down. “And what did I think it meant?”

“I don’t know,” Tamsin said defensively. “That I wanted you to be all mine and no one else’s? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

Bo’s eyes bore into her. They were warm with care and compassion and… hope? Was that what Tamsin was seeing? “And you don’t want me to be all yours and no one else’s?” Bo asked.

Tamsin had to look away. That really wasn’t what she’d meant that night—not exactly. She knew Bo, knew her nature, and it didn’t involve white picket fences or vows of eternal monogamy. Tamsin didn’t care. What she wanted from Bo was deeper than that. Simpler. More elemental. And absolutely faeing terrifying.

But hearing Bo say those words...

It took several long seconds before Tamsin could find her voice. When she did, it sounded vulnerable even to her own ears. “No? I don’t know.” She risked a glance at Bo, who looked as scared and conflicted as Tamsin felt. “I mean, do you?”

Bo sighed. “You know what I am, Tamsin.” She gave a wistful smile. “Actually, sometimes I think you know me better than any of the others.”

Tamsin sniffed loftily. “That’s because I do. Obviously.”

A short huff of laughter escaped Bo’s lips, but silence soon settled over them once again.

Tamsin sat with her elbows on her knees, staring at her hands. “I’m not… I wasn’t trying to claim you, Bo. I don’t care what you do with your body. Who you do with your body. I mean, it would be a crime to keep that ass to myself, let’s be real.”

Bo laughed again, shaking her head, but the sound was tinged with melancholy. “It’s not only that. It’s also _who_ I am.” Tamsin turned to look at her. “I break hearts, Tamsin. Even when I don’t mean to, even when I want to do anything else. It just… happens. I’m a danger to you. To your heart.” Bo swallowed audibly. This time it was she who looked away. “You should give it to someone who can do better.”

The heart in question slammed painfully against Tamsin’s ribs. How could Bo ever think there was anyone better? Anyone who could hold a greater claim on her world? Tamsin knew with sudden, fearful clarity that this was The Moment. The one Kenzi had often referred to when they talked. The moment Tamsin would one day look back on as the instant when everything changed, one way or the other—though what that change would be depended on how much of herself she was willing to put on the line. At least, that was what Kenzi always said.

She tried to think of what Kenzi would tell her to do now, what to say, in this foreign world of feelings. It wasn’t too hard to decide. Tamsin knew Kenzi would throw her own words back at her—the words that had become the mantra of her last life.

 _All in_.

Or, as Kenzi once put it, _Balls to the wall because YOLO, bitches_.

Tamsin looked straight into Bo’s eyes. “You already have it.”

Bo’s pupils dilated. Her jaw opened and closed, opened and closed, but she said nothing.

The world seemed like it was turning in slow motion. Tamsin’s face felt hot, her tongue like sandpaper. “It’s okay if… if you don’t feel the same way,” she forced out. “I get it. But I think you already know that my heart’s been yours for a while.”

“Yeah,” Bo whispered. She nodded slowly, looking pained. “I guess I wanted to give you a chance to change your mind.”

“It’s way too late for that.” Despondent, Tamsin wiped at one eye, staring at the floor between her feet. Bo would not see her cry again, not today.

“For me, too.”

“What?” The word escaped Tamsin in a rush of air. Her gaze flicked up to Bo, who was watching her with a mix of wonder and apprehension.

Bo laced her fingers with Tamsin’s, tugging her arm from her knee and forcing Tamsin’s stance to open. “You came out of nowhere, T.” She turned Tamsin’s hand over in hers. She stared at their linked fingers, frowning, as she seemed to consider her words. “It’s always been me, you know? Who chooses? I turn on the Succubus eyes, lure in my unwitting victims, spit them back out drained or heartbroken or both. You’ve seen how it goes. But then you walked in and… boom.”

“Boom?” Tamsin couldn’t tear her eyes from the way her fingers tangled with Bo’s.

“Boom. Wham. Pow,” Bo explained. “ _You_ picked _me_ , Tamsin. And not because my powers didn’t give you a choice. I think it took me a long time to accept that that could even happen for me. That I could be picked.”

“Oh, Bo.”

“No,” Bo said, holding up her free hand. “It’s not a sad thing. It’s— it totally blindsided me. I’m used to doing the chasing, not being chased. I didn’t know what to do. How to be. I still don’t, really.”

Tamsin narrowed her eyes. “All right, when you say _chased_ —”

Bo grinned. “I mean charmingly, enchantingly wooed. Duh.”

“Mmhmm.” Tamsin scowled, though it was only for show. She would chase Bo to Neptune and back again if it made the Succubus feel like her heart was good for more than ill-fated seductions. If it made Bo feel like she was worthy. For what, Tamsin wasn’t sure. But she yearned to be a part of it.

“The point is, I kind of liked it.” The corner of Bo’s mouth quirked up. “Really liked it, once I got my head on straight. But mostly I really liked you,” Bo said softly. She squeezed Tamsin’s hand. “Like you, present tense.”

Tamsin could feel the blush creeping up her neck, could hear the pounding of her heart at Bo’s unexpected confession. It was almost too much. And yet here Bo was, with a matching flush coloring her own face, peering into Tamsin’s soul with eyes wide open. “You do?”

“More than like,” Bo said.

Tamsin closed the space between them and pressed her lips to Bo’s.

Bo, though, was the one who deepened the kiss. The one who rose up onto her knees, threading her hand through Tamsin’s hair. The one who pushed Tamsin backwards until she was splayed against the arm of the couch, then pulled back just far enough for their eyes to meet.

Bo’s were brown, still, as they skated over Tamsin’s face, and they shot a potent flood of need through Tamsin’s insides. She reached for the hem of Bo’s shirt, only just noticing that the fabric was damp. The waistband of her pants, too. Before she could wonder why, Bo caught her hands.

“Upstairs,” Bo said, breathless against Tamsin’s lips. “Bed.”

“Couch,” Tamsin argued. It had the distinct advantage of being already underneath her.

“No.” Bo disentangled herself and stood on shaky legs, though she never broke contact with Tamsin. Her irises flickered from brown to blue, to brown again. “Roomies fuck on the couch.”

Her heart in her throat, Tamsin let Bo pull her to her feet, across the living room, and to the stairs. She chased Bo all the way up them.

 

* * *

 

Bo lay on her back, the sheet pooled around her bare waist, as she stared contentedly at the criss-crossed fabric that hung above her bed. Tamsin’s leg was flung across her hips, but Bo forced herself not to look down at the sleek, tanned skin, lest she become unable to resist rolling Tamsin over for Round 5. That could wait at least until Bo caught her breath, or until Tamsin’s pizza finally arrived to refuel them.

The Valkyrie was curled into Bo’s shoulder, still panting. She ran her fingers between Bo’s breasts and along her collarbone, before they came to twist through the hair at the nape of Bo’s neck. They lay still for long minutes, only the sound of their slowing breaths breaking the silence. That, and the thudding Bo could feel against her ribs—could nearly hear—where Tamsin’s chest was pressed to her side.

Finally, Tamsin seemed to realize something. She propped herself up on one elbow, cheek resting on the heel of her hand.

“You didn’t feed from me,” Tamsin said, a question laced in her words. “Not any of those times.”

Bo tucked a loose strand of hair behind Tamsin’s ear, trying not to become distracted by the smooth column of her throat. “This may come as a shock,” Bo said, smiling, “but your chi is not the only thing you bring to the table, Valkyrie. Or bed, as it were.” And if Tamsin thought so, Bo was going to need to spend a lot more time showing her how wrong she was.

“But aren’t you starving? You’ve been locked in the Dal for…” Tamsin’s brows knitted together. “Dyson.”

“No,” Bo rushed to say. “Not Dyson. Definitely not Dyson.” She captured Tamsin’s free hand, which had started to tug the sheet up over her breasts.

Tamsin cleared her throat. “Oh.”

“I…” Bo swallowed, feeling embarrassed and uncertain, and more than a little guilty. She glanced down at the open palm in hers, unwelcome tension stiffening her body as she traced the lengths of Tamsin’s fingers. “I wanted to have a clear head for when we talked. So I sort of, uh, kissed a Spriggan on the way here.”

“Oh my god.” Tamsin pulled her hand away. Bo looked up, stricken, only to find that Tamsin was using the hand to clutch at her chest. “You made out with a fairy Fae for me? Bo, that’s so sweet.”

Bo blinked. Before she could come up with a response, Tamsin caught her in a kiss. Slowly, Bo relaxed little by little until she was smiling against Tamsin’s mouth. She could feel the powerful energy bubbling just under Tamsin’s skin, could sense the way the Valkyrie was willing her chi to the surface, tempting Bo until resistance was little more than a memory.

She drank long and hard from Tamsin, a steady blue glow connecting their life forces. Tamsin’s chi rocked her, transformed her, until at last Tamsin turned her face and broke the kiss. Bo was flying, soaring, vibrating with power, so much so that she was sure Tamsin must be about to pass out.

Tamsin only grinned knowingly as she let her head fall back against Bo’s outstretched arm. She looked no worse for the wear, apart from her ravished lips.

Bo sank back into her pillow. “Spriggan’s got nothing on you,” she breathed, her eyes slipping closed as Tamsin’s chi twined and fused with her own.

When Bo had come down from her sudden high enough to think clearly, she shifted out from under Tamsin and rolled onto her side so they lay face to face. She searched Tamsin’s eyes, so vibrant and trusting and clear.

“Girlfriends?” Bo whispered.

Tamsin quirked an eyebrow. “Why don’t you put that in an envelope and mail it to three days ago?”

Bo swatted her shoulder. “Girlfriends?” she said again, emphasizing the word. “Our own version, whatever we want it to be.”

Tamsin bit her lip and sighed dramatically, as if weighing the options. “Only if we can still fuck on the couch sometimes.”

Bo grinned. “Deal.”

 

 

 


End file.
